After the Bombs Fell
by TommyGun15
Summary: A oneshot, this is the aftermath of the world's destruction through Alex Mercer's eyes. Let me know if I should continue this story. Also, see if you can spot the four references to other works in here. Don't forget to reveiw


**Disclaimer: I don't own Prototype.**

**This is a simple one-shot for until Thanksgiving comes and the poll on my profile has been voted on. I also have a forum where people can suggest other stories they want me to do. Or you could just PM me, your choice. Please Read and Review. Seriously, I find it hard to come up with new ideas when I don't get Reviews. Even if you don't like it, let me know what I did wrong.**

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Alex Mercer stood on in the middle of the ash covered street. Ash, that permeated everything, covering it, smothering it. It stung his eyes. He stared down at her, his only care in the world. He wasn't a hero, but he had thought that maybe, just maybe, if he kept her safe it would ease his consciousness a bit. Not that it mattered, guilt still riddled his every thought, and the screams of a million dying people resounded no quieter in his mind, and now he'd failed.

Dana was dead.

Even though he'd kept the bomb from destroying New York, Blackwatch, who'd never really had authorization to use a nuclear weapon, had quickly passed the blame to a foreign power. The resulting war had wiped out most of humanity, plunging the world into a nuclear winter. Including Dana.

Yet he remained.

Alex didn't know how long he'd been standing here, staring at the charred remains of his dead sister, all he knew was that the sun no longer shone in the sky, thee was simply a dull light shining down on the earth. The longer he stood the more he knew that this silent vigil wouldn't bring her back. She was dead and he would have to accept the fact, and move on.

So he left.

With no hope, no friends, and no place to go, he simply wandered. He lived an existence that was not true life, but not death. For as he learned, he could not die. No matter what fire he flung himself into, or how many times he'd been reduced to a puddle of slime, he would simply, regenerate. So he did not live, but he did not die.

He simply, was.

As he walked through the desert, he learned that not all human life had been extinguished. He passed a small town, that had a few people living in it. It looked fairly well occupied. It also looked fairly well defended. The townsfolk refused to let him in. They simply turned him away. Alex didn't feel like depopulating the world any more, and left.

Yet not all survived.

There were some towns that were empty. One such case was a city, one that doubtless had a name, long ago. Whatever hit the town had turned the inhabitants to ashen statues of their former selves. When Alex touched them, or sometimes simply passed near them, they would crumble. Alex had left this place soon.

So time passed.

Alex figure it had been about six months when he realized, he wasn't eating. He felt neither the wish to consume living mass, or real food. He required no apparent sustenance, not that he could find any. He had no need to sleep either. In this way did he live, for countless sunless days.

Yet he still found people.

Desperate beings who lived in the wastes. Some mutated beyond belief, their bodies a hideous testimony to the horrors on radiation. Starving, emaciated husks that would attempt to devour anything in their path. When they tried to accost him, Alex would offer sharp rebuttal, in the form of his claws.

Yet some looked normal.

One of the saddest sights Alex had seen was near an abandoned city. All occupants had mutated into wild beasts, with oozing green boils covering their bodies. A mob of them were chasing a lone man. He had a long, thin nose, with a pair of cracked glasses sitting on the end of them. His hair was light grey, though be it from stress, age, or mutation, Alex knew not.

In his arms was a child.

A girl, deathly pale. She clung tightly to a ratty, torn, stuffed bear. She had her face buried in the man's chest as he ran, hiding he face from the monsters that pursued them. The horde was massive, and Alex could only watch sadly as the pair fled into a dead-end alleyway. Alex left, unable to watch.

Thus he wandered on.

Finally, after wandering for the longest time, Alex found a vault. Inside the vault were paintings, and music, and a power generator. An entire underground bunker, with all the basic pre-war amenities. Alex search the place from top to bottom, yet found no sign of any occupants.

So he sealed it.

Alex locked the door, planning never to open it. He would stay here, for he'd tired of his long trek. He sat down in the middle of what appeared to be a dining room, and lost himself within his own mind. He pondered the mysteries of life, and if the world would heal or not. He sorted out his inner demons, and, as thus, he resided, waiting for the door to open, or the world to end.

He is still waiting.

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**Wow, that was kind of depressing. Well, so long for now. R&R**


End file.
